


Crush

by cimorene



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Cuddling, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Missing Scene, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cimorene/pseuds/cimorene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from <em>The Two Towers</em> in the Entwood. Pippin wants to sleep, but he <em>can't.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> First published 2001.

Merry woke up because Pippin's hair was tickling his nose, and pulled his face back a little. His arms were wrapped around Pippin's chest from behind, under his arms.

It was very nice.

But he had a feeling it could be improved. He tightened his arms around Pippin, and Pippin, making an astonishing, delightful little soft noise Merry hadn't known he could make, was very pliant in his arms. It almost seemed he was cooperating in being pulled closer to Merry, although of course he was asleep, and when their bodies were curled together, he even seemed to snuggle closer with another dreamy murmur.

_This_ was even nicer. Very, very satisfying indeed. There was something terribly comforting about Pippin's warm, solid weight against him. Merry was getting sleepy again, and he felt a most insensible desire to be closer to Pippin, when he was fairly certain it wasn't even possible to do so.

Then he discovered he could sort of tangle their legs together, which was also nice and warm. And Pip was still very cooperative. Merry smiled to himself, in the dark. They were close enough now that when he started to drift off to sleep again, and started to lose perfect touch with his body, he couldn't tell what was him and what was Pippin, which was very nice in itself.

Merry buried his face in Pippin's hair again and breathed in, and let Pippin's hair tickle his nose as much as it liked.

* * *

Merry had a persistent habit of crushing Pippin when they were asleep. Pippin would wake up to find half his breath gone, from Merry's strong arms around his ribs, or from Merry lying either partly on top of him, a solid blanket of heavy warmth that always smelled sweetly of the Shire and, of course, of Merry, no matter how far from home they wandered--or all the way on top of him, sometimes, so Pippin knew nothing of the world and could feel nothing but Merry when he woke up.

Pippin rather liked it, actually, but the problem was that he couldn't quite breathe, and that made him wake up, which he _didn't_ like. He wanted to stay asleep for as long as possible--that had been a rule of his, with few exceptions, for some time, and sleep had been more precious than ever since they left the Shire and left so many other things behind, like regular meals and hot baths.

And now he had a much better reason to want to stay asleep.

Even when he couldn't breathe, he woke mostly-crushed with a deliciously happy feeling, like eating warm sticky honey in the sun with overripe berries, and not worrying about staining your shirt. He knew it felt even better when he was asleep. At least, it stood to reason that it must, because it was the best when he woke up, and then it slowly went away, until Merry let him go, and then it would almost completely vanish.

To prevent this, the best thing to do was to go back to sleep, but Pippin couldn't do that until he could breathe. Often, when he tried to shift away from Merry, Merry wouldn't let him--sometimes his arms would even tighten--and then Pippin couldn't get away, usually, without waking Merry up. Merry was _strong._

Pippin liked that too.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, wiggling a little. It didn't work, but only had the effect of Merry tucking his face closer in the crook of Pippin's shoulder and murmuring something in his sleep. _"Merry,"_ he hissed, and twisted more energetically.

Merry rolled them over, pinning Pippin to the ground and knocking his breath out of him in a fast _whoosh._ As much as he liked lying like this usually, Pippin was getting rather annoyed. He wanted to go back to sleep. It was still dark, and Treebeard's bed of twigs and moss was very nice and soft--but perhaps too soft, because he really wasn't going to be able to breathe on his face in it like this, with Merry on him, no matter how safe and snuggly it felt, or how Merry's Shire scent mixed with the fresh green smell of the moss, or how much he would have liked it normally.

_ "Meriadoc Brandybuck,"_ Pippin said out loud, exasperated, with as much breath as he had left, and gave another determined wriggle, managing to wedge one of his shoulders under him so he could turn his head. His nose and Merry's bumped. _ "Ow!"_

Merry stirred a little--without moving off Pippin, mind--and blinked sleepily. His eyes opened, then, very close to Pippin's face. "What's the matter, Pippin?" He yawned. "Why are you scowling?"

* * *

Pippin struggled to sit up, but he didn't seem to be managing very well, so Merry sat up and pulled him upright. "What's the matter?" He asked again.

"My dear Merry--" he panted. He seemed out of breath. "--that is _very_ annoying!"

It was still almost pitch black in Treebeard's Ent-house, and Treebeard seemed to be asleep, but Merry shot a cautious look across the room at him. Pippin was being a bit loud. "Shh," Merry said, and Pippin frowned at him again, charmingly.

"What are you grinning for?" Pippin demanded, in a whisper, this time.

"What's annoying?" Merry asked soothingly, reaching out to brush a twig off Pippin's shoulder.

"_You,_ the way you--lie on me--I like it, Merry--but it's only that you crush the breath right out of me, even though you don't mean to--and I can't sleep! And I do so want to!" Pippin's lip was trembling. Merry picked a little tuft of gray moss out of the locks of hair curling on his forehead.

"It's alright, Pip," Merry said, confused. "I won't."

Pippin seemed to get inexplicably even angrier. "No!"

"No? Pippin, what is it you want me to do?" Merry asked.

"Just don't crush me."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to," Merry soothed. "But I don't think I can really help it, so--"

Pippin looked anxious. "But I can't sleep that way. I keep waking up, Merry," he said pitifully. Pippin's soulful hobbit eyes had been this big and wet ever since he was a tiny little sprout of a baby hobbit toddling after Merry everywhere.

They had always gotten him nearly everything he wanted, except out of punishment when his and Merry's pranks were discovered.

Merry certainly couldn't resist.

"Then I won't crush you," he said bravely, "I won't lie so close to you. If you sleep here, where it's warm--and I move over there--"

Pippin burst into tears. Merry was horrified at first, but then, of course, there was nothing left to do but pull Pippin into his arms again, and Pippin didn't resist at all but cuddled close to him, his tears wetting the lapel of Merry's jacket. He shook miserably, but he was awfully nice to hold, and Merry didn't mind comforting him at all, though he preferred him happy.

He put his face in Pippin's hair again and, at the prompting of a quiet voice whispering in his head, hid a secretive little kiss among the unruly curls on the crown of Pippin's head.

* * *

It was the most natural thing in the world to crawl back into Merry's arms for comfort, and Pippin clung tightly to him. It followed that it was the most _unnatural_ thing in the world to sleep here, with Merry over there, and all that space between them. Maybe he wouldn't be crushed, but he probably wouldn't sleep at all either!

"Sh," Merry was saying into Pippin's hair, "don't," meaning Pippin's crying. He sniffed, and sat there still for a moment, not looking up. It was warm and pleasant.

Maybe they could just sleep like this. Surely Merry couldn't crush him if they weren't even lying down?

Pippin looked up and tried again to explain. "You can't sleep over there, Merry. I'd much rather be crushed than sleep by myself, and then I couldn't probably sleep. And what if it got cold? Likely as not I'd be cold, and lonely too--and it's the whole reason I wanted to get to sleep anyway."

Merry looked mildly confused, but he was paying attention, looking into Pippin's eyes. He smiled a little, and brushed back the hair on Pippin's forehead. He had a habit of trying to tidy Pippin's hair, too--a lost cause, but Merry never gave up, and Pippin didn't really mind. "Why did you want to sleep?"

Pippin paused, and looked down away. It didn't seem he could say something as important as that looking right into Merry's beautiful eyes. And maybe he ought not to say it at all, it occurred to him? Of course there was nothing wrong with sleep, but there might be something wrong with the way he felt about Merry, especially if Merry didn't feel it too. But,

"Pip?" Merry said gently, sounding so kind.

And Pippin sighed and said hesitantly, "Because--because--of you. Well, you know. Because I liked it. It's so warm and--and safe and--nice." That didn't seem to quite cover it, actually, but Pippin wasn't sure what it was like, besides those things. There was the smell of Merry; and then there was just the fact that it was his sweet Merry he was lying with, and he almost felt as if he could burrow inside of him when they laid close enough together like that. There were all the other things it reminded him of--like Merry's last birthday party, when he'd given Pippin a soft woolly scarf, rather as a joke after they got lost in the woods and Pippin complained of his neck's being cold, but now Pippin never took it off for anything. Things like summer, too, and new-mown hay. And a pipe of good Shire-leaf--smoked in his favorite old pipe--on a little hearth somewhere, yes, beside a fire, with Merry there next to him.

Merry hugged him, but carefully, Pippin noticed, without crushing anything. "It is, isn't it," he murmured.

"Mm," Pippin answered, and yawned. He was warm and safe and sleepy, and he just wanted to go back to sleep. "Let's lie down again after all, Merry. I feel as if I could sleep now even if--" he yawned again-- "you accidentally squished _all_ the breath out of me."

So they did, even though Merry laughed.

But then Merry wrapped his arms firmly about Pippin's back, and Pippin tried not to, but he couldn't help it, really--he grunted a little.

"Oh," said Merry quickly, loosening his grip, pulling back a little.

Pippin allowed that, but then when he settled into the bed of moss again for sleep, he wasn't quite comfortable enough, and he instinctively wriggled closer to Merry until their chests bumped together again, and so did their knees. When Merry sighed, the sound rushed past Pippin's ear and heated the side of his face and it smelled even sweeter, and it was so good, and Pippin wriggled even closer to Merry again--

And he wanted more, so he opened his eyes and they met Merry's eyes, glistening in the darkness, and he slid his arm around Merry and tried to curl closer again but he couldn't really--

And he was very much awake. Merry's mouth was just a finger's-breadth away from Pippin's mouth. "Pippin," he whispered. Pippin watched his mouth form the word, entranced, and had decidedly wicked, but wonderful, thoughts. "Pippin. How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine," said Pippin, looking deeply into Merry's eyes. Their noses were almost bumping. And they were touching all up and down their bodies again. It was lovely but it still wasn't--

"Just a baby still, aren't you?" Merry breathed.

Pippin didn't really know what they were talking about, but he said indignantly, "No, I'm not at all--I'm quite grown-up and responsible--" He broke off, his breath hitching.

Merry's voice sounded wonderfully rich and thick, sleepy and slow and low and soft. All he said was, "Good."

Then all of Pippin's wicked thoughts and his wonderful ones fled, banished by the reality too amazing to fit in them. Merry swallowed that little breath of space between their lips and kissed him. Their mouths touched, and fitted together, and they didn't really know exactly what to do with them--or at least Pippin didn't, but Merry seemed to have some idea. But it was too, too brilliant. It was the rest Pippin had been looking for, trying to come closer. He wriggled against Merry in delight.

There was the softness of Merry's mouth against him and the way Merry tasted, which was even better than the way he smelled. Also, his mouth was very hot, not just warm like Merry all over. And it had a very nice shape to it--Pippin's eyes were closed, but he could taste the pretty shape of Merry's pink lower lip and the little curl of the one over it. How long had he wanted to taste them?

Oh, forever.

Pippin thought there was still something wrong. And he opened his mouth. Then, so did Merry, and the tips of their tongues touched, smooth and slippery-wet in the dark space in their mouths closed together with their eyes shut. Pippin made a little noise. He didn't know what he was saying, quite, but Merry seemed to appreciate it.

They kissed until Pippin couldn't breathe and didn't care and couldn't remember how it all started anymore. He was dizzy, but that didn't matter. He would fall again and again, but however many times he did, Merry would catch him. Finally they had to break their lips apart and lie wrapped up together, breathing fast, still. "Oh," Pippin said softly. Then Merry kissed him again. _ "Oh."_

* * *

Merry discovered the answer to their problem by accident, while he was trying to find some way to hold Pippin more firmly, more closely, and to claim him more thoroughly, than he could the way they were lying with their legs tangled, their bellies and chests pressed together, and their mouths still delectably burning against each other.

Pippin made little noises in his throat when Merry stroked down the soft skin under his ears with his thumb, but he rumbled in his chest when Merry's hands found their way under his vest and measured the curve of his ribs. When he stroked up and down the length of Pippin's back and his hands settled on the soft curve behind and pulled him close, Pippin did the most beautiful thing of all, an unbelieving swift gasping cry against Merry's parted lips. Merry did that again, and again, and then it happened--he pulled Pippin against him tightly and moved, and they rolled, and then Pippin was lying on top of _Merry_, looking bemused but not at all unhappy about the situation.

"My dear Merry," he said, but not at all icily as he had before. This time he said it with his mouth open and red, smiling down at Merry. "Do that again--" Merry explored a little further, his fingers spreading. He took the fullness there in his hands, and Pippin's hips bucked.

Merry and Pippin both gasped. "Pippin," Merry said, "That was _perfect_!"

Pippin smiled mischievously, his eyes lighting up. "No, not quite, I think." He tried again, and that hot, tight feeling spread through Merry again out to his toes in little tingling waves.

He said "Mmmmm," and, trying to get that feeling back, better, pulled his legs apart a little so that Pippin's weight settled nicely between them. They closed their eyes, and sighed, as their weight pushed hardness against hardness.

They found out that when Pippin rocked his hips, that felt nice. And when Merry did too, at the same time, it was even better. They found out that this lovely feeling didn't come and go at all, but got better each time, and all along it only made them want more until they were almost crying, pushing hard against each other and searching and searching for something they couldn't find.

"Merry," Pippin whispered, and

"Pippin," whispered Merry.

One of the things that was missing was the feel of Pippin's skin on his, and they fixed that by unbuttoning their trousers, although Pippin's hands almost shook to much to do that, and they came together again trembling, their mouths fastening together like a lifeline. Their first kiss so recent, already Merry couldn't get enough of the subtle wonderful taste of Pippin.

They kept moving together, but now their flesh touched flesh, and it felt so _good_ and _right_, if increasingly slippery, and still frustrating. Merry knew there was just--a bit more. And then he pulled his legs up and wrapped them around Pippin's waist, and that helped a _lot_. By the end he couldn't find it in him to say "Pippin," anymore--the only thing he knew was _oh_ and the feel and taste of Pippin.

Pippin kept saying the same thing.

At last, they found it.

An explosion, hot, sweet, and ripe, like a peach flushed orange-red warm in the sun giving way to the squeezing of your fingers, its soft flesh folding around you and its clear sticky juice weeping out, trickling over your hand.

Pippin and Merry gasped unevenly, staring hard at each other, trying to get their breath. They touched the stickiness on their bellies in wonder and laughed, and when they had their breath, Merry folded Pippin in his arms again. Pippin stretched out on top of him and kissed him again sleepily.

"What about this?" Merry whispered. "Do you think you can sleep like that? On top of me? And not get squished?"

Pippin smiled lazily and pushed his face against Merry's neck. "Mmmm, shhhh, Merry. Go to sleep."

End 


End file.
